


Out Of The Frying Pan Into The Fire

by Tazii



Series: Nuts & Volts Week [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Domestic, Domestic villains, M/M, Nuts & Volts Week, Rated T for one (1) sex joke, The members of Evernight Castle share one braincell, Tyrian unleashes his inner cat, and it's in Hazel, i sure as hell didn't, please don't take this one too seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22676440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazii/pseuds/Tazii
Summary: Arthur cooks an egg.
Relationships: Mercury Black & Emerald Sustrai, Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Series: Nuts & Volts Week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627864
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69
Collections: Nuts and Volts Week 2020





	Out Of The Frying Pan Into The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry.
> 
> This chapter is girlfriend approved. It may have also killed my beta.
> 
> This chapter is a bit... _different_ than my last 3. So.. enjoy?
> 
> \---
> 
> Day 4 of [Nuts & Volts Week](https://nutsandvoltsweek.tumblr.com/)  
> Domestic
> 
> If you're interested in the ship or just want to support some amazing work, please check the blog out and give everyone some love.

“What’s in your mouth?”

From the way Tyrian tensed up, shoulders hiked as he slowly turned to face him, Arthur could only assume it wasn’t anything _good_.

He’d caught his partner couched in the middle of candle lit hallways huddled as he chewed on Gods knew what. They weren’t even close to the kitchens or the dining halls.

“Spit it out.”

Like a _dog_ Tyrian only chewed faster, wild eyes flicking around restlessly to map out his escape.

“No! Tyrian, don’t you-!” 

The moment Arthur took a step forward Tyrian sprung up, bolting down the hallways with his mouth full. 

It was ridiculous and childish and Arthur was _not_ going to stoop to his level. If Tyrian wanted to eat from the floor that was _his_ prerogative.

Arthur wasn’t going to chase him. 

He _wasn’t_.

_He wouldn’t…_

Sighing, Arthur’s shoulders dropped in defeat. It may very well be Tyrian’s mouth that he was defiling, but Arthur was the unfortunate bastard that had to suffer the knowledge the next time he kissed that mouth.

Arthur didn’t run, not if he didn’t have to. Just because he was capable of physical activity didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. Thinking of the next time Tyrian cornered him, mouth tasting of something _vile_ , it was painstakingly clear he was stripped of any _real_ choice.

“Blast it,” he hissed, resigning to the inevitable before he shot off in a run after him. _”Tyrian!”_

It was easy to follow after the man. These floors were not built to run on, the smooth surface giving Tyrian no real traction as he skidded and knocked over candles and tapestries. He watched Tyrian slide at a junction and slam into a wall, only to take off down a new hall.

“Tyrian!” he snarled, shoes squeaking on the smooth floor as he struggled to make the turn himself. “Get! BACK HERE!”

Like a whirlwind Tyrian blasted straight past Cinder cackling wickedly at his little game of _’chase’_.

Cinder spun to watch, dumbfounded at the display only to stumble when Arthur’s shoulder struck hers in his pursuit.

“Pardon _me_ ,” Arthur shot back with complete and utter insincerity, blatantly ignoring the snarled _’idiots!’_ from their dear Maiden. 

Tyrian took a turn down a dead-end and Arthur followed, pleased that Tyrian had effectively trapped himself.

Realizing his mistake, Tyrian skidded on the floor as he tried to turn, only to be greeted with Arthur blocking his path. Out of breath and rather frazzled, Arthur strode towards him with his hand stretched out.

“Give me- _Tyrian!_ ”

Before Arthur could reach him, Tyrian crouched low and leapt up at an overhanging chandelier. He scrambled to cling onto the ornament before he began to pull himself up, tail and legs kicking out as he slipped an arm onto the branches.

Arthur grabbed a hold of Tyrian’s tail and halted his progress. Tyrian kicked out and nearly caught Arthur on the chin before Arthur tugged on the tail in warning.

“Tyrian!”

Hearing his name Tyrian finally looked down, eyes wide as he failed to hide himself behind lit candles.

“ _What_ are you eating?”

For a beat Tyrian seemed to contemplate the question, unsure if it was best to come clean or act innocent. Half of his body was still dangling and caught in Arthur’s grasp. Struggling would be useless at this point.

Relenting, Tyrian held out his hand to show off a brown lump with a clear bite taken out of it.

Arthur squinted at the object, completely lost in the absurdity of it all.

“A potato?” Not even _just_ a potato. A potato that was still coated in _dirt_. “It’s not cooked! _It’s not even cleaned!_ ”

“I was _HUNGRY!_ ” Tyrian argued, and Arthur had the displeasure of watching Tyrian defiantly take another bite of the dirty vegetable. He could _hear_ the crunch from below.

“Then why didn’t you get Hazel to make you something?!” Arthur snapped back.

Tyrian’s tail twitched and jerked in his hold, feet still kicking out in a desperate attempt to free himself. 

“Hazel’s not here!” Tyrian hissed back, pulling and tugging to try and climb up. 

“What?!” Arthur’s brow pinched in clear concern. “Well where the bloody hell is he?!”

“Out! He’s out!” Tyrian answered, still kicking and flailing. “Let me go!”

Doing just that, Arthur let Tyrian’s tail slip from his grasp. He turned to pull out his scroll while Tyrian clambering up into the light above. 

“This is getting– _ridiculous–_ ” Arthur huffed, tapping away at his scroll as the room’s lighting shifted and swayed. He hit communications for Hazel and _waited_ , blatantly ignoring the squeaks of the swaying chandelier above. 

It rang twice before a very deep and tired voice answered; _”What?”_

“Where are you?”

There was a beat of silence on the line followed by a gruff reply; _”What do you want?”_

“What I want is for you to come home! Last I heard you weren’t put on any missions. What makes you _think_ you can just up and leave–”

_”I have matters outside of you all.”_

“Unacceptable! What are we supposed to eat while you’re gone?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end and Arthur glowered at Hazel’s profile picture.

_”You’re calling me about food?”_

“You’re our cook!”

 _”I’m **busy** ,”_ Hazel growled, finality stressed in his tone. _”If you’re hungry then do it yourself.”_

Arthur’s mouth fell open wordlessly completely _baffled_ by Hazel’s suggestion.

Everyone knew Hazel was the _only_ one out of them capable of cooking! 

Cinder would sooner burn down the entire kitchen. Growing up on the streets, Emerald was as likely to eat a raw potato as Tyrian was, though admittedly she would at _least_ wash it first. Mercury’s idea of a meal was to open a can of beans and call it a day. _Salem would simply let them all starve!_

And Arthur?

“You can’t possibly be suggesting I–”

The line was cut abruptly, the little picture of a phone flipping red to signal he was just hung up on.

“Unbelievable!”

There was a snap behind him, followed by a short scream, a loud crash, and Arthur breathed an exasperated sigh. 

“Alright Tyrian,” Arthur started as he snapped his scroll shut and turned to address the man crumpled on the floor under the weight of a massive _broken_ chandelier, “it seems we have no other choice.”

Dazed from the fall, Tyrian tilted his chin up to blink owlishly up at the other.

“ _We_ are cooking.”

The pain slipped clear from Tyrian’s features, mouth fallen slack in a moment of quiet disbelief. All too quickly that peaceful silence was disrupted with a peel of laughter and Arthur turned on his heel in a huff as Tyrian thrashed on the floor, his hysterics bouncing through the empty haunting halls.

\---

“Do you even know how to cook an egg?”

Tyrian was perched on top of a stool, crouched with his feet and hands planted on the cushioned seat rather than actually sitting properly on it. His tail was slack and idly dragged across the floor as he eagerly watched the doctor on the other side of the island bench.

Arthur turned the egg between his fingers as he held it up to the light, inspecting it with complete disinterest.

Tyrian attempted to lean forward and grab for it only for Arthur to lift it out of his reach.

“I _don’t_ trust you not to stick the entire thing in your mouth.”

The low unashamed chuckle he earned was enough to prove Arthur’s paranoia right.

“It can’t be all that hard,” Arthur finally answered as he turned to flick on the stove. He twisted the knob until the fire was set to its highest. “Find me a frying pan.”

Tyrian crawled up onto the bench, still giggling as he went. His tail knocked against a roll of paper towels, sending them to the floor.

Arthur cursed and ducked down to pick them up only for Tyrian’s tail to smack him over the side of the head.

“Watch it!” Arthur snapped, straightening up to set the papers back. 

Tyrian hung himself half over the side of the counter, hips bracing him on the surface as he searched upside-down through a cupboard. 

“Found it~,” He sang, incredibly proud of himself as he swung his arm back and held it out to Arthur.

Taking it with a curt _’thank you’_ , Arthur set the pan over the blazing fire before he tapped the egg against the corner of the counter, just like he’d seen Hazel do. Tyrain crept up beside him, ducking his head under overhanging cupboards to watch Arthur repeatedly fail to crack the egg.

“Hit it harder,” Tyrian provided, and Arthur grumbled to himself before doing just that.

The egg shattered at impact, dripping clear and orange goo littered with shell along the edge and down to the floor. Arthur shot Tyrian a less-than-impressed stare as the faunus stifled a laugh. 

He scuttered away towards the fridge and plucked out another, holding it out to the frustrated doctor. 

Taking it, Arthur tried again, finding the middle ground that didn’t end in instant failure.

The egg cracked down the middle and Tyrian clapped frantically, perching himself beside the stove. Rather pleased with himself, Arthur separated the egg down the center before he emptied it over the pan. 

Shattered shards of shell landed in the mess and Arthur gave an enraged shout as he tore the pan away from the fire and shoved it into the sink. He turned on the tap, sputtering and leaning back when it went up in a plume of steam.

Tyrian’s clapping only got louder as he raised his arms up, cheering with a chorus of _’bravo!’_

Arthur slammed the pan back over the fire, unbothered by the sizzle of water as he snatched another egg from the fridge and held it in Tyrian’s face.

“If you’re going to sit there and criticise then _you_ do it!”

Tyrian’s head pulled back, eyes crossed to properly see the object thrust in his face. His humour faltered though that ever-there wild smile didn’t so much as flinch. He took the offered egg between his middle finger and thumb before he crawled towards the pan. 

Holding the egg just over the pan, Tyrian’s tail stretched around to prick the bottom before his forefinger pushed down on the top.

The shell parted cleanly down the center, dropping the egg neatly into the pan. It was picture perfect, and Tyrian’s head snapped around to shoot a triumphant grin at Arthur.

“If there is even a _drop_ of poison–”

“I know how to control my tail!” In complete contradiction of Tyrian’s claim his tail swung around behind him, knocking a rack of spices to the floor. 

“Tyrian, settle down for _five minutes-!_ ”

“What the hell–?”

At the sudden interruption of a feminine voice, both their heads snapped towards the source of the noise. 

Emerald carefully stepped over shattered glass and spilt spices, bewildered by the utter _shit show_ going on in the kitchen. Mercury followed after her not bothering to tread carefully. There was a heavy crunch of glass as the young man eyed their single frying egg.

“If you guys are having a lovers’ spat the knives are in the third draw.”

Emerald half turned on him to whack the back of her hand against his stomach, though it barely seemed to bother him. 

“Don’t encourage them.”

Mercury just shrugged, hands planted in his pockets as Emerald turned back towards them.

“What are you doing?”

“None of your–”

“We’re making eggs!” Tyrian answered, so _proud_ of himself. Arthur shot him a frown but the smile planted on Tyrian’s face was nothing short of childlike innocence. 

“Where’s Hazel?” Mercury piped up and Arthur’s blood boiled.

“He’s _out_ ,” Arthur practically _spat_. “He wouldn’t elaborate and so we’re forced to fend for ourselves.”

“The egg is burning,” Emerald interrupted, her voice monotonous with complete apathy.

Arthur turned with a shout and grabbed a spatula, scraping desperately to the darkening egg. It stuck against the hot surface, crumbling up as Arthur tried desperately to dislodge it. The smoke was nauseating and infuriating all at once.

“You tried to cook it without oil?” Emerald criticised, unbothered when Arthur turned to scowl at her.

“Butter’s better,” Mercury interjected and Arthur turned on his heel to dump the eggs.

The children were beginning to bicker and behind him he could hear Tyrian goad them into it, forcing his very malinformed opinion in their tit-for-tat.

Arthur was above this. He never wanted children. While Cinder’s little cheer-squad weren’t exactly _his_ to begin with, being forced to deal with those sibling-esque spats was _not_ in his repertoire.

Neither was cooking eggs.

He needed to have a very serious _chat_ with Hazel about leaving them all without adequate notice. 

Arthur dropped the pan on the stove for the third time before he scronged around for a bottle of oil. Emerald and Mercury were still going at it, arguing pointlessly over whether burning food technically counted as cooking or not. Tyrian seemed to side with Mercury that _’setting it on fire absolutely counts as cooking’_.

Whether Tyrian was trying to make Arthur feel better about the eggs, actually believed that, or just wanted to rile Emerald up; it was anyone’s guess.

Arthur cracked his forth egg, silently grateful when it fell in cleanly. The edges bubbled in a sea of oil and Arthur mentally patted his own back.

 _”You,”_ Arthur interrupted by sticking the spatula in Tyrian’s face accusingly, “better appreciate the work I’ve done for you.”

Tyrian teetered a laugh, unbothered by the utensil an inch from his nose. He clasped his hands around Arthur’s wrist and pulled it to one side, rubbing his cheek along the side of Arthur’s hand instead.

Arthur’s hand instantly relaxed, the spatula drooped in his grip while Tyrian’s eyelids fluttered.

“Always, doctor~,” he purred and Arthur’s lips curled in a smug smile while the children retched.

 _”Sick,”_ Mercury complained while Emerald scrunched her nose in disgust.

“Romance, children,” Tyrian drawled, his tail flicking in utter delight. “Perhaps you could learn something from it.”

“He was just threatening you with a spatula,” Emerald interjected and Arthur turned the makeshift weapon to her.

“She’s right,” Tyrian chirped, pushing himself down and off the counter. As he made to pass Arthur he pushed up onto the balls of his feet and growled against Arthur’s ear perfectly loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s more romantic when you use your hand.”

“Urg!”  
“Could you _not?_ ”

Arthur slowly lowered the spatula, his pleased smile only growing at the look of complete _dismay_ on the younger ones’ faces.

“Tyrian, could you please put on some toast?”

“You trust him with a toaster?” Mercury snorted.

“Completely,” Arthur insisted, though his eyes flicked towards his partner in doubt. He cleared his throat as he less-than-discretely crept towards his partner. Leaning down, Arthur muttered close to Tyrian’s ear, _“don’t use your tail.”_

Tyrian cackled, apparently finding Arthur’s distrust _amusing_. Perhaps Arthur wasn’t giving Tyrian enough credit. Then again, there was a shattered chandelier that stood to prove Tyrian’s judgement wasn’t always the best.

“Hey, doc?” Mercury spoke up, much to Arthur’s chagrin.

Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, completely _done_ with infuriating children. For the first time since he met the woman he wished Cinder was there if only to reign them in. Or send them to act as a beowolf’s chew toy. Anything to keep them _silent_.

 _”What?”_ Arthur snapped with a dismissive flick of his hand.

“What side are you on in this whole ‘setting food on fire counts as cooking’ debate?”

“Of course it doesn’t count!” Arthur argued, eyes snapping open to frown at the ceiling. 

“Really?” Mercury answered, the faux-surprise in his voice sitting _very wrong_ with Arthur. “Huh. I wouldn’t have figured.”

 _”Why?”_ Arthur stressed, dragging out the word as he slowly turned to face Mercury. 

He didn’t really need the child pointing towards the stove to see the bright flicker of light in the side of his eye. 

Brows raised in shock, Arthur took a step back in panic as a fire kicked up from the pan he’d set. The high flames along the pan curved along the sides, fueling a fire set over too high oil.

Tyrian sputtered a laugh behind him. Mercury wisely took a step back but Emerald only panicked. She rounded the counter and grabbed a glass of water. 

“Stop!” Arthur barked as he reached out to grab her, but it was far too late.

Emerald threw the water on the fire and Tyrian’s tail looped around the two of them, pulling them both just shy of the ensuing explosion. 

Despite the heroic act Tyrian’s laughter only grew with the roar of flames, utterly thrilled as he bounced and clapped behind them.

Emerald pushed herself up against a cupboard, breath harsh as Mercury came up behind her to try and calm the poor girl down.

The explosion receded back into a large fire, the flames licking along the stove wall before a Grimm hand stretched out amongst the chaos to grab the pan’s lid and snuff out the flame.

“ _WHAT_ are you _DOING?!_ ” an unpleasant voice snapped behind them and all four sets of heads turned towards an enraged looking Cinder Fall.

Three of them remained silent, hearts pounding in their chests from the insanity of it all. Tyrian, ever the anarchist, was happy to pipe up in complete glee.

“We’re cooking eggs!”

Arthur jerked himself out of Tyrian’s grasp and smoothed his suit down, frankly embarrassed to be found in such disarray. 

“Emerald threw water on an oil fire,” Mercury _oh so helpfully_ provided.

“It exploded!”

“Yeeahh, it’ll do that,” Mercury taunted while Emerald struggled to calm her racing heart. 

Cinder neared the pan and flicked the stove off, face twisted in disgust as smoke wafted from under the lid.

“You set _eggs_ on fire?” Cinder asked in complete exasperation. “Where’s Hazel?”

Arthur’s blood boiled _hotter_ and for a moment he could swear he saw red.

“He’s _out!_ ” He stressed, hands raised in a sharp chopped motion. “He’s out, Tyrian’s hungry, and your _brats_ aren’t helping!”

“I mean… you started the fire,” Mercury threw in his two-cents and Arthur wheeled around on him.

“ _She_ escalated the situation!”

“She’s never been in a kitchen in her life, _Doctor_ ,” Cinder mocked and Arthur’s shoulders tensed in displeasure. That word sounded defiled from _her_. “You can’t expect her to know.”

“And that’s _my fault?_ ” Arthur gaped, indignant. “Even _he_ knew!” He argued, frantically gesturing an arm towards Mercury.

“Well I _do_ know how to start a fire,” Mercury answered, sounding rather smug about that fact.

“I was _trying_ to save the kitchen before _you_ burnt it down!” Emerald snapped, her anxiety suddenly spurring her flare of anger. “If you watched what you were doing instead of flirting–!”

 _”Careful,”_ Tyrian warned, his tail slipping between Arthur and the girl protectively. “Now, children, there’s no need to go around tattletaling–”

 **”What,”** a new voice rang out, and all five of them flinched, “is going on here?”

Slowly they all turned, eyes wide and suddenly timid. Arthur folded his hands together behind his back, eyes falling to the floor in shame as their mistress joined them in the pits of madness.

Salem brushed past broken glass without a sound, blackened eyes set on the scorch marks climbing up the wall.

There was the sudden sound of a pop and Tyrian tore two burnt unbuttered pieces of toast from the toaster and clambered onto the bench to present them to his Goddess.

“I made you toast, my queen!”

He sounded so elated and proud, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he forced himself to breathe in deep. This entire fiasco had shattered all around him and now Salem was here to witness it.

_Wonderful._

Salem took the offered toast and turned them between her fingers, ignoring Tyrian’s delighted giggles as she inspected them with disinterest.

“Where is Hazel?”

Arthur was at his tipping point. Frustration and anger clawed at his throat like flames, threatening to spew forth ugly words at the woman who could easily end his existence. He struggled to swallow it back, eyes rolling to the ceiling for a moment as he prayed to Gods he didn’t particularly care for for an _ounce_ of patience.

“He–” he started, lowering his gaze once more as he reached up one hand to rub at a temple, forcing his voice calm. “He’s… out, ma’am.”

Salem answered with a quiet unconcerned hum of acknowledgement as she set the burnt toast back in Tyrian’s hands. 

“Ma’am, you… you wouldn’t happen to know how to cook, would you?” Arthur tried. Surely it couldn’t hurt to just ask. 

“Arthur, I haven’t needed food for sustenance for millenia now. And I haven’t cooked for anyone in a long _long_ time.”

“I’ll take that as a _’no’_ then,” Arthur muttered, unsurprised but still disappointed by the answer.

Salem slowly regarded them one by one, then the burnt pan with its blackened egg in the center.

“Mercury.” At his name the child’s head perked up. “You’re in charge of cooking until our dear Hazel returns to us. Arthur here is now banned from using the kitchen entirely.”

Shocked and insulted, Arthur’s mouth fell open soundlessly. He wanted to argue. Wanted to _insist_ that trusting Mercury over him was an awful idea. But how was he supposed to argue with their mistress? Especially in the aftermath that he created?

Arthur just huffed a disbelieving breath as Salem turned and drifted out.

The moment they were free from her presence Mercury clasped his hands together.

“Alright, you heard the lady.”

\---

With a heavy sigh Hazel kicked the Evernight doors closed. His arms were piled with paper bags, obscuring his vision as he started the slow track to the kitchen. Focused so far forward he didn’t notice the chandelier at his feet until he stepped on it, snapping a candle underfoot. 

He shuffled to one side to get a better look, the frown on his face deepening at the sight.

“Tyrian,” he grunted, readjusting the bags in his arms as he turned to continue his journey. There wasn’t even a sliver of a doubt.

As he entered the kitchen he felt shards of glass crunch beneath his feet, and he quickly dumped the bags on the counter before he could properly regard it. 

His nicely stocked shelf of spices was broken with each little glass container shattered, mixes of spice dragged throughout the kitchen. Following the footsteps, Hazel’s frown slowly turned towards a burnt out frying pan and the soot staining his white tile walls.

“Arthur,” he growled this time, dragging his feet as he put the cold food away first. Everything else could wait. 

After he set away half the stock Hazel shuffled out of the kitchen towards the great hall, following the faded chatter of voices. 

Reaching the hall doors Hazel stormed in, the doors creaking loudly to announce his presence. 

He stopped short at the sight before him, shoulders dropped as six heads turned towards him. For a moment Hazel just let himself absorb the scene.

All of them, even Salem herself, were seated around a candelabra holding skewered marshmallows over the small flames. Only Cinder didn’t partake, instead preferring to use her own flame to cook the sweet on her finger.

Tyrian was seated on Arthur’s lap as Arthur cooked marshmallows for the two of them which apparently partook in lighting it on fire and letting it charcoal.

Mercury was no better, barely blowing out the flaming ball before shoving it straight into his mouth. Emerald was the only one to have the decency to look even the slightest bit bashful.

Hazel’s shoulders dropped with a deep sigh.

“What happened?”

Six voices answered back without a beat:

**”You were out.”**

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter was born from a lot of shitpost talking between myself and my lovely beta scrumpy. being the absolute feral i am, i decided to put it into a fanfic.  
> i lied earlier; i'm not sorry at all
> 
> Shout out to my girlfriend for knowing how to spell repertoire. 
> 
> If you'd like to catch me elsewhere, you can find me on: [Tumblr](https://taziidcvil.tumblr.com/)


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